Year 2009
I hated the color yellow.
I hated anything and everything bright, really.
My closet reminded me of a solemn funeral home, because everything I owned was either black, dark grey, or dark navy.
I hated happy people.
People who reeked of joy, you know?
People who smiled a lot more than they should.
I hated religious nuts even more, who constantly sang praises, and talked of nonsense.
It made my stomach churn.
People needed to be like me: Sad, angry, frustrated, jealous, and downright mean.
Self deprecating humor and making sarcastic remarks about anything and everything that’s wrong with the society was my forte. So naturally I cussed like a sailor. I thought I was chic.
But now I confess,
I envied them. I envied the happy people, I secretly always wanted to be happy.
Even in those days when I would say “F* this, I don’t care” and pushing everyone away, I did care. I wanted to be loved, I wanted to be happy.
It was all a façade.
I wanted those cheesy hugs and “I love you”s at the end of the phone call.
Even at the darkest and the most devastating moments of our lives,
even when we give up and say I don’t care anymore,
until you breathe the last breath on this earth,
you were created to be loved by the savior.
Saltybulbs 